Chapter 11 - Page 2

her, but she had not quite put her finger on the reason. A day or
two after Miss Stackpole's arrival she had made some invidious
reflexions on American hotels, which excited a vein of
counter-argument on the part of the correspondent of the
Interviewer, who in the exercise of her profession had acquainted
herself, in the western world, with every form of caravansary.
Henrietta expressed the opinion that American hotels were
the best in the world, and Mrs. Touchett, fresh from a renewed
struggle with them, recorded a conviction that they were the
worst. Ralph, with his experimental geniality, suggested, by way
of healing the breach, that the truth lay between the two
extremes and that the establishments in question ought to be
described as fair middling. This contribution to the discussion,
however, Miss Stackpole rejected with scorn. Middling indeed! If
they were not the best in the world they were the worst, but
there was nothing middling about an American hotel.

"We judge from different points of view, evidently," said Mrs.
Touchett. "I like to be treated as an individual; you like to be
treated as a 'party.'"

"I don't know what you mean," Henrietta replied. "I like to be
treated as an American lady."

"Poor American ladies!" cried Mrs. Touchett with a laugh. "They're
the slaves of slaves."

"They're the companions of freemen," Henrietta retorted.

"They're the companions of their servants--the Irish chambermaid
and the negro waiter. They share their work."

"Do you call the domestics in an American household 'slaves'?"
Miss Stackpole enquired. "If that's the way you desire to treat
them, no wonder you don't like America."

"If you've not good servants you're miserable," Mrs. Touchett
serenely said. "They're very bad in America, but I've five
perfect ones in Florence."

"I don't see what you want with five," Henrietta couldn't help
observing. "I don't think I should like to see five persons
surrounding me in that menial position."

"I like them in that position better than in some others,"
proclaimed Mrs. Touchett with much meaning.

"Should you like me better if I were your butler, dear?" her
husband asked.

"I don't think I should: you wouldn't at all have the tenue."

"The companions of freemen--I like that, Miss Stackpole," said
Ralph. "It's a beautiful description."

"When I said freemen I didn't mean you, sir!"

And this was the only reward that Ralph got for his compliment.
Miss Stackpole was baffled; she evidently thought there was
something treasonable in Mrs. Touchett's appreciation of a class
which she privately judged to be a mysterious survival of
feudalism. It was perhaps because her mind was